Just about the news

Only on the news do I know names and people

how was the labyrinth of glass, in the park, of mirrors

even knocking found the way out.

Because I don't have the exit now –

it's called network,

cuts an exact square

and a place that is omnipresent.

Or am I the background white

in the hall of mirrors,

diagonal and metallic incision

on earth, narrow around the body

with the neons that made indistinct

the skin and the air like a transparent shadow

that follows each one, but when he turns around he is not there.

And there the piece of old coin,

the bronze circle with the dolphin

was fallen to the ground

when we were neighbors on the way out,

and in order not to lose it, we abandoned it.

There, exactly, I believed

in a language for everyone

identical to the air in mirrors,

from the inventor of the labyrinth to our sweaty hands

who protected the forehead:

error or deviation,

but it was solidity

bump the forehead sometimes

before arriving.

And on the way out of the park, the master of crepes,

the pebble in the circle as the dark platform

where do you throw and catch

and you lose, and then the gym shoes

about the pebble and the right month

november – always a rite

while time is now threadlike

and the right feelings that everyone can capture

and see so alone in infinity

network – or, sometimes, in balance,

someone who returns the coin.